To link to the entire object, paste this link in email, IM or documentTo embed the entire object, paste this HTML in websiteTo link to this page, paste this link in email, IM or documentTo embed this page, paste this HTML in website

I SEE NO Stau above the horizon, pnoMtsiNO liuht to qoide us, uut tHk intellioent, patuiotic, united Whig Paktt op the Unite!) Statk.s."—[Webster.
VOL. 19.
HUNTINGDON, PA., WEDNESDAY, MARCH 29, 1854.
NO. 12.
TERMS :
The "IlrsTiNooos JounNAi." is publishedat tlio following rates ; ir paid in advance $It<iO
Ifpaid within six months after the time of Rubseribii.g 1,75
Ifpaid nt thc end oflhe yonr 2,00
And two dollnrs nnd lifty cents if not pnid till edcrtho expiration of the year. No suhscriiition tvill bo takeu for a less period than six monihs, fend nopaper w-ill ho discontinued, except nt the oplion of the Edilor, until all arrearages arc paid. Subscribers living indistunt coiintics.orin other Stnles, will bo required to pny invnrinbly in advnnce.
^S" 'I'l." abovo tcrins will bc rigidly adhered <o m nil cases.
n,iTES OF AUTEKTI81\'«.
Onc §quarcof IG lines or loss
Ker I insertion $0.50, For I month, $1,25 " 2 " 0,75, " .-5 " 2,75
" 3 " 1,00, '• 6 " 5,00
PnOEKs.sior.Ai, CARD.s.pot exceeding lOlincs, and not clian.L'cd during llio yonr $.1,00
CAnD nnd JoniNAi- in ndvancc 5,oo
llrsiNF.s.') CARiisof the same length, not changed $3,00
Cauo nnd JounNAi,, in advance 1,00
1^^ Shorl transient advertisements will be nd- tnitted into our edilorial columns nt treble the usual rates.
On longer advertiscmciit.s, wheiher yearly or transient, a rcasouabic deduction will bo made for prompt pnymenl.
In
The Withered Wreath.
'criii;: i\ .sluirt, time ngO luiioiirr tlic
From th(j Oskuloosa Hcruld. THE PRINTER'S TOIL.
Blow, yc stormy wrnds of winler;
Drivo the chilly, ilnftiii;? snow; Closely housed the busy prinlcr,
Heeds not how tlie wiiidd may blow.
CHek, cliclv, hU types jjo dropping, Here und there upon tho caso,
JVa he stands for hours, popping Every letter in ita phice.
Jlcaven sond the usofid printor Every eomtbrt mortals need;
For oar nights were dull in winter, Had wc not the news to read.
Sad would be the world's condition, If no printer boys were found;
Ignorance and superstition,
Sin and suflering would abound.
Yes, it is the busy printer.
Rolls tho car of knowled;To on; And a gloomy mental winter,
Soon would reign if he wore gone.
Money's usoful yot tho mintcrs Fill not half so high a place,
As thc busy, toiling printers, Fing'rlng typo before tho ease.
Yet, while typo thoy'ro busy setting, Oft some thoughtless popinjay,
Leaves the country kindly letting Printers "whistle for tbeir pay."
0, ingratitude ungracious?
Arc there on enlightened soil, Men Willi mind* I'-I) Incapainons,
A.s to slight tho print'ir's toll ?
See Itim how extremely busy, Fing'ring tyiio before tho casf,
Toiling till he's almost dizzy, To exalt the liuman raeo.
Long live the art of printing, Hero on happy Freedom's soil.
And with joys that know no stinting, Heav'n reward the Printer's toil !
THE FIRE IS OUT.
IT PAVI. TLKOII., JB.
I licar tlieir trcail, dim, ghostly dim. The dark night spirits roam ubont;
TllO slow clock sings it.s midnight hymn, 'Tis bitter cold, tlio fu-e is out.
And now the joys before mc movn In Karth's wide baltlo put to rout.
Whero fade tbo forms wc pri.'.o and luvo And ono by one life's fires go out.
Man has bul onc deep love of youth, One trembling lovo of hope nnd donbt,
Xo answ-oring love rewards liis trulh, The heart ia chilled, the fii-c goes out.
At morn to battle for tho right
Crocs forth lipe miinhofld strong and stout; Alas! that day must close in night.
Men change to clods, the f.re goes ont.
Fill high tlio glass! Tlio hour scarce past With loudest .song nnd deepest bout 1
Ah I cold gray laoruiiig dawns nt Inst, Tho headache comes, tl.c liro goes out.
Ah 1 up I for Fn.iio, for Ilonor's slate!
We'll carry Glory's high redoubt,— 'Tis but tho inillioiilli mnn is great,
Thc rest, poor souls, their iirc goes out.
Poor childmnn, in tliy constant strif.-, Why ever fret nnd tease and pout ?
Thou canst not wield the toys of lii'e, Go! slcejil Go—die! thy lirc is out.
Thc last spnrk (lieg, and leaves the soul Thot grave w-ith ashes strewn about;
Cold grate, with many a (lark, dead coal. Kmblem of Life, thy fire is out.
graves of a burial ground, wo noticed upon one. only-two fuct in length, a withered wreath. It hnii nppai-ciitly been mado for llio brow oftho liulc sleeper, so small wns it in size, and wus porchanco laid off in that hour when, profl'cring nn eternal crown, Ihe spirit-host led the child nngel I'rom earth to heaven.
Tllis wrealh, as it lay withered ami frosted upon llio lilllc grave, w-.-vs to ns the emblem of eternity; and wo could not but think it was a sweet and holy thouglit thut had placed it above tho dead. There was no headstone thoro—there was nono needed; for tl.o withered wrcitl. waa both oto.io and inscription, telling of a nest that was rifled of its sweetest song- bird, nnd of a pcnrl that hnd flipped from tl.e siring of uffcclioii here, hud been galbered to the treasury above.
When that pearl w.is Inst from llio jcw-el- wreath of maternal lovo, mayhap, in sonic liiiin¬ ble home, whcrc it Imd sparkled ns jewel spark¬ led before, there was griof unspeakable— 'Uachcl mourned for hor babe and refusing to b(i comforted.''
Hut in thc same hour thcro was joy in the still tlironj of lhe immortals, for a ncw star was set in tho crown of the Holy One, and a now- ray added to the brilliancy of He.-iven.
So it is ever, when from tho circles of earth a bnbe is borne upward. .Shadows may gr.'tiier here, nud treasnreil wreaths—w-ovoti for thu brow oflhe departed—may wither and die upon its grave; but from tho Kdeu hills, comes lloat¬ ing on every sunbeam: " Sing gentle winds, and clasp your hauds yc
fiowers, This cliild once earlh's is henceforth God's and
SASSi^iir'a iBiAiBiijais.
" The Night Cometh, wherein no Man can 'Work."
Oh, reader, we have taken too liltle thought of this I Perhaps you have not seen friends, in the full flush of ripened manhood, with all tho blessings and hopes o( this life eluslering ubout thcin, suddenly cut down by thc relentless stroke of tho AU-Conqueror. Perhaps you havo never FCcn one die—•holding bis hand in yours, while lio "panted nwny his breath." When you do experience this, this great thomewill be brought nearer to you. As you work then, you will look at your hands and nsk yourself:
"And mnst this body die? This niurlal franie decay ?
And must those active limbs of mine Lie mouldering in the clay 7''
Tho great certainly will bo beforo you; yo'i will feel that soon "tho night cometh, wherein no man ca.i work." You will awake in the night watelies, perhaps, by the heavy beating of your heart, and suddenly remember lliat friend after friend has dropped from your side —lliat time with tlicm is no longer, n.id that sooner or later you will be called to join them. And then will come thouglils of earthly enmi¬ ties—of ungrateful (riciidships; but leilh them -will, nlso, come tho added reflection that this litlle life, wliieh is oven as a vnpor, is too short for enmities; animosities, ifyou have indulged any, will fade before tho certainty that in the grave thero is no bitterness, no passion, no re¬ venge. Puss but a litlle -while, nnd you will be ilirgottcii by all savo those in whoso meiiio- ric8 you woulI live, not with dis-rcgard, not wilh reproach, bul witl. unbroken friendship, tmjying (ifT'-ctioii. Ihnt may il bn whon vur ''nifht wtncth."
An Eleg^ant Extract.
The sca is the largest of ccinetricS; slumbcrerfl sleep wilhout n monument grave yards, in all other lands, show symbol of distinction between tho groat and llic sniall, the rich and the poor; but in that ocean cemetery the king and the clown, the princo and the peasant, aro ull alike undistin¬ guished. Thc same wave rolls over nil—the sumo requiem sung by thc ininstrels-y of the ocean sung to their honor. Over their remains thc same storm beats, and the same sun shines; and there, unmarked, the w-eak and the power¬ ful, tlio plumed and niihoiiored, will sleep on, until nwakenoil by thc same trump, when thc sea will give up its dead. I thouglit of sailing over the slumbering but devoted Cookman, who, after a brief bnt brilliant career, perished in the President—over the laugh-loving Power, w-ho went down in tlic same ill-fated vessel, w-e may have |.iJsed. In that cemetery sleeps the accomplished and pious Fisher; but where he and thousands of others of *ho noble spirits of tho earth lie, no one but Ood knoweth. No marble rises to point out where tbeir ashes arc gathered, or where thc lovers of the good or wiso can go to shed thc tear of symp.itliy.— Who can tell where lie tho tens ol thousunds of Africa's sons who perished in tho "middle passage I" Yet lhat cemelei-y halb ornamenls of .lehovuh. Never can T forget my days and nighlr, ns I passed over the noblest of cemete¬ ries w-illiout a single monument.— Giles.
!i\ .i;i\;p]Tj\i 3i?®Lii"^>
moderately prominent, nnd suflieienlly woU- shapod, i.3 yot, as far as I know, anonymous, allliong'' i' ''0 perhnps ns eommon and as w-cll looking a feature ns is lo be seen on an Kng¬ lish face.
Altogether, they wore a pair of tail and come¬ ly maidens, nnd being constantly attired in gar¬ ments of the same color and fashion, looked at all limes so much alike, that no stranger ever dreamed of knowing tbem apart; and even their ac(|ua!ntaiices were rather nccustomed to think and speak oflhcm generally as 'the Evanses," than as the separate individuals Jane and Patty. Even thoso who did pretend to distinguish the one from the otber, were not exempt from mistakes,which the sisters—Patty especially, who delighted in the fun so often produced by tho unusual resemblance—w-erc npt to favor by changing placesin a walk, or slipping from one side to the other at a country tea-party, or playing a hundred little innocent tricks to occasion at oncc n grave blunder and a merry laugh.
Old Dinah Goodwin for instance—who be¬ ing rather purbliiul, was jealous of being sus¬ pected of seeing less clearly than her neighbors, and had delied even the Evanses to puzzle her discernment—.¦:ecking in vain on Patty's hand thc cut linger which she had dressed on .lane's, ascribed the incredible cure to the merits of hcr own incomparable salvctand coidd bc hard¬ ly undeceived, even by tbe pulling olT of .lane's glove and the exhibition of the lacerated digi¬ tal sewed round by her own band.-ige. Young Gcorgc Kaily, the greatest beau in tho p.arish, having betted at a Christmas party that he would dance wilh every prelly gii-1 in tho room, lost his wager (which Patty had overheard) by that sauc" damsel's slipping into hcr sister's place, and persuading her to join hcr ow-n un¬ conscious partner; so that George danced twice with Patty, and not at all with Jane.— A bantering piece of malice w-hich proved, ns tbc young gentleman (a rustic exquisite of the first watcr)was pleased to assort, that Miss Patty wns not displeased with her partner.— Ilow little docs a vain mnn know- of woiuan kind I If she bad liked him, she would not have played the trick for the mines of Galcon- da.
In short, from their school days, when Jane was chidden for Patty's bnd w-ork, and Patty slapped for .lane's bad spinning, down to this, tbeir prime of womanhood, there had been no end to the confusion produced by this remark¬ able instance of faniily likeness.
And yet Nature—who sets somo mark of in¬ dividuality upon eveu her meanest productions, making some unnoted dill'crpi.ce bci-.vcen the lambs dropped from onc cw,^. the robins bred in one nest, tho flowers growing on one stalk, and the leaves hanging from one tree—had not left these young maidens williout one great and pcnnane..t diatiuclion—a natural anil striking dissimilarity of temper. Equally industrious, afTeetionate, happy aud kind; each wns kind, happy, ailectionate, and industrious in n dilTerent way. Jane was "r.ive, Patty w-as gay. Ifyou beard a langh or a song, bo sure it was Patty; she who jumped tho .sliiu,- w-hen hcr sister opened tho gate, w-as Pally; she who chased the pigs from the garden ns merrily as if she w-as running a riiee, so that the pigs did not mind her, was Paity.
Ol. tl.e other hand, sho that so carefully was muking, wilh ils own rnvelcd threads; nn i.ivi- siblc darn in hcr mother's handkerchief, and hearing her litlle sister read tho while, sho tliat was so patiently feeding, ono by onc, two broods of young tur'.5cys; she that so pensively was watering her own bed of rare flowers—the pale hues of the Alpine pink, or the niabastcr Iilossoins oflhe white evening primrose, whose modest flowers, dying off into a blush resem¬ bled her own character—was Jane.
Some oflhc gossips of Abcrleigh used to as¬ sert that Jane's sighing over the flow-ers, as well as thc early steadiness of her character, arose f.-om an engagement to my lord's head gardener, an intelligent, sedate, and sober young Scotchman. Of this I know- nothing.— Cerlaiu it is, that the prettiest nnd iiew-est plants were to bu fouml iu Jane's liltic flow-cr border;* nnd if Jlr. Archibald Madano did sometimes camo to look after them, I do not see thnt it is any business of anybody's.
In thc meantime, a visitor of a different de¬ scription arrived nt the farm. A cousin of Mrs. Evans had been ns suceessful in trnde ns her husband had been in agriculture, and he had now senl his only son to become acquaint ed with his relations, and to sjioud some weeks in ftieir family.
Charles Foster was n fine young man, whose father was neither more nor less than n liuen- draperin a great town; butwhose manncs,edu¬ cation, mind and chnrocter, might have done honor to a far higher station. Ho was, in a word, one of nature's gc.itlcroa.i, and in nolh- did ho more thoroughly show-his own taste and good breeding, than by entering entirely into homely wnys and old-fashioned habits of his coiiiiti-y cousins. He was delighted with the simplicity, frugality and industry, which blen¬ ded well witl. the sterling goodness and genu¬ ine prudence of the great l-higlisl. farm-house. The women especially pleased l.im much.— They formed a strong contrast with anylhing ho hud met with before. No finery—no co¬ quetry—no French—no piano I It is impossi¬ ble to describe the sensation of relief and com¬ fort with which Charles Foster, sick of musical misscs,ascertained that the whole dwelling did not contain n single instrument, except thc bassoon on which Oeorge Evans was wont, every Sunday at church, to excriicintu tho ears of the whole congregation. lie liked both sis- tori). Jane's softness and co.isiderateness en¬ gaged his full estceni; but Patty's innocent playfulness suited best with his own high spir¬ its and animated conversation. lie had known then, apart, from thc first; and indeed denied that tho likeness was nt nil puzzling, or more than is usual between siaiers; und secretly
Don't Propose in the Dark.
IIY Mi'is Mrn'or.p.
The pretty farm-house sianding at tho cor¬ ner where Kibes lane crosses lhe brook, or tlie liroolv crosses Kibes lane, (for thc first phrase, although giving by far tho closest picture oflhc place, doe.i, it must be confessed, look rather Irish,) and where the afore:;aid brook winds nway by the side of another lane, until it spreads into river-like dignity, as it meanders through the sunny plain of llnrlly Comnion, ttnd linallydisappears amid tho grcei. recesses of Pcrgu Wood—that pretty, square fur.n-Iiouso, half hidden by the tnll elms in Iho flu-.vcr court before it, which with the spneious garden nnd orchard behind, nnd the cntcusive barns, yards, and out-buildings, so eoniplclly ocenpies one of the angles formed by the crossing of the lane and the stream—that pretty farm-house con¬ tains one of the lia]ipiest and most prosjierous families in Abcrleigh—the large and thriving I'amily of farmer Evans.
.Vhether from skill or good fortune—or, as is most probable, from a lueky inixture of hoth —everything goes right inhis groat fann. His crops aro the best in the parish; his hay is nev¬ er spoiled; his cattle never die; his servants never thieve; his children are never ill. He buys cheap, and sells dear; money gathers about him like a snow-ball; and yet, it spite of all this provoking nnd intolcrtvble prosperily, cvcrvbody loves farmer Evans. He is so hos¬ pitable, so good-natured, so generous, so home¬ ly ! There, aflcr all, lies the charm. Riches have not only not spoiled the man, but they have not altered him. Uc is just tho sarae in look, in w-ord, and wny, tl.at l.e was thirty years ago, when ho and his wifu with two sorry hor- .scs, one cow, and three pigs, began tho world at Dean Gate, n littlo bargain of tw-cnty acres, two .nilcs oil'. Ay, and his wife is the same woman !—the same frugal, tidy, industrious, goodnntured Mrs. Evans—so noted for nctivity of tongue and limb, her good looks, and her plain dressing; as frugal, as good-natured ns active, and as plain-dressing Mrs. Evans at for¬ ty-live, a.s she was at nineteen, and, iu a difl'er¬ cnt way, almost as good looking.
Their cbildreu—si.t 'boys,' ns farmer Evans pro.niseuously culls them, whose ages vary from eight and twenty, and three girls, tw-o "rowi. up, and one, the youngest of tlie family —are just what might be expccled from par¬ ents so simple nnd so good. Tho young man, intelligent and well-conducted; tho boys, docile nnd promising; n.id tl.e little girl, ns pretty a curly-bead, rosy-cheeked poppet, as ever was the pot and plaything of n large family. It is, however, with tho eldest danghlers thnt wo have to do.
Jane and Patty Evnns wore as much alike aa hath oflcn befallen nny tv.-o sisters not bom at one time; for inthe inaller of twiu chiidrcn, there has been u series of puzzles ever sinco the days ofthe Dromios. Nearly nt an ngo (I believe that at this moment bolh arc turned nineteen, and neither has reached twentj)—ex¬ actly of a stature, so high that Frederick the Great would have coveted Iheni for bis tall re¬ giment,—with liazle eyes, largo mouths, full lips, white teeth, brown hair, and that sort of nose whieh is neither Oi-ceian, or Komun, nor thought Patty much prettier thnn her sister, nquiliue, not/cpri/i nc: retrousse, that some ns sho was avowedly raenier. In doors and rersoni niofer to tUcin nU: but a ucsc wliich. o-it, 1"
¦nnnllv ut hcr side: and before
hc hnd been n month in the house nil tiic in- mntcs had givon Charles Foster as a lover of his young cousin; nnd she, when rallied on the subject, cried fy 1 and pish I and pshaw 1 and wondered how peoplo could talk such non¬ sense—and like to have such nonsense talk¬ ed to her, belter than anything in the world I
AlTairs wero in this stato when one night .lane appeared even graver and more thought¬ ful than usual, nnd fnr, far sadder. .She sigh¬ ed deeply; nnd Pnity—for the two sisters shar¬ ed the samo liltle room—inquired tenderly, what ailed her? Thc inquiry seemed lo make Jane worse. She burst into tears, wbilc PaHy hung over her nnd soothed hcr. At length ahe roused herself bya strong efforl; and, turning away from her alTectionate comforter, said in a low- lone—
'I liave a great vexation to-night Patty.— Charles Fosier has naked me to marry bim 1'
'Charles.Fosier' <l'd you sny Charles Foster?' asked poor Pntly, trembling, unwilling even to trust hcr own senses against the evidence of her heart; 'Charles Foster!'
'Yes, our cousin, Charles Foster!' 'And you have accepted him ?' inquired Pat¬ ty, in a hoarse voice.
'Oh, uo—no—nol Do you think I have for¬ gotten poor Archibald 7 Besides I am not thc person whom he should have nski;d to marry him; false and heartless as ho is, I would not bo his wife—cruel, unfeeling, unmanly ns his conduct has been I No! not if he would mnke me Qneen of Englnnd 1' 'You refused him, then?' 'No, my father met us suddenly, just ns I w-as recovering from the suriirisc and indigna¬ tion tbat at first struck me dumb. Put I shall refuse hi.n most ccrtai..ly—the false, deceitful, u.igrateful villian!'
'Poor father. Ue will be disappointed. So w-ill mother 1' ,
'They will be disappointed, and both ang.-y —hut not at my refusal. Oh, how they will despise him,' added ,Tane.
Poor Patty, melted by her sister's sympathy, and touched by an indignation most unusual in that mild nnd gentio girl, could no longer com¬ mand her feeling.s, but flung herself on the bed, in that agony of passion and grief which the first great sorrow seldom fails to excite irt young heart.
After tt while she resumed thc conversation. 'We must not blame him too severely. Per¬ haps iny vanity made .no lliink his attoiitious meant more thnn thoy really did, and yon had all taken up thc notion, liut you must speak ofhim so unkindly. lie has done noth¬ ing but what was natural. You are so much better than I ara, my own denr Jnne! Hc laugh¬ od and talked with me—but he felt your good¬ ness; and he w-ns right. I w-ns never worlhy ofhim, and yon are; and if it were not for Ar¬ chibald, I should rejoice from the bottom of my heart,' continued Pally, sobbing, 'if you would nccepl—,' but unable to speak her gen¬ erous wi.sh, she burst into a fresh flow- of tears; and the sisters, mutually and i^iroiigly nIVectcd, wept in ench other's arms, nnd were coinfortcd. That night P.itty cried herself lo sleep; but I such sleep is not of long duration. Before ] daw-ii sho was up, and pacing, wilh resistless irritnbility, the dew-y grass-w-alks of tiio garden and orchard. In less than half an hour, alight elastic step—she knew the sound n-cll—came rnpping behind her; n hand—oh, how often had she thrilled at the touch of that hand !—tried lo drawbers nnder his own;—while a wcll-kno«-n ! voice addressed her in tho softest and tenderest , nccenls.
I 'Pally—n.y own swoet Patty! have you ihought of what I said toyou last night?' 'To me r replied Patty, wilh bitterness. 'Ay, to bc sure—to your ow-n dear self I Do yiiu not remember tho question I nsked yon, when yonr good fi.thcr—for thc first time un- w-elcouic—joined ns so suddenly, that you had not tunc to say, iYes,' now.'
'Mr. Foster!'replied Patty, with some spirit, 'yon aro under a mistake herd It was to Jane that you made the proposal, and you are Inking mo for her at this very moment I'
'Mistake you for your sisler! Propose to Jane! Incredible I Impossible! You are jes¬ ting!'
'Then he took Jano for mc last night—nnd he is no deceiver!' thought Patty to herself, as with smiles beaming brightly through hcr tears, she turned round at his reiterated prnyers, nnd yielded the hnnd he sought to his prcasure.
'He mistook hcr for me I Uo that defied us to perplex him 1'
And so it wns; nn unconscious and unobser¬ ved change of place, as either sister resumed her stalion beside litlle Betty, who had scamp¬ ered away after a glow worm, added to the deepening twilight and tbe lover's nutur.al em¬ barrassment, had produced the confusion whieh gave poor Pally a iiighl's misery, to bo com¬ pensated by a lifetime of happiness. Jane was nlmost ns glnd to lose a lover as her sister w-as to regain onc. Charles is gono homo to his fallier's to ma!;e preparations for his bride; A.-- chibald has taken a great nursery garden, aud there is some talk in Abcrleigh that tho mar¬ riage of the two sisters is to be Lclebrnled on thc same day.
A '\ralaable Table.
The following table will bo found very valu¬ able to many of our readers;
A box 21 inches by IG inches square and 28 inches deep, will contain a bnrrel, (!> bush¬ els.)
A box 21 inches by 16 inches sqnnre and It inches deep, will contain half a barrel.
A box 20 inches by 15-8 inehes square, nnd 8 inches deep, will contain one bushel.
A box 12 inches by 11-2 inches square, and 8 inches deep, will contain halfa bushels.
A box 8 inches by 8-4 inches squnre, nnd 8 inches deep, will contain one peck.
A box 8 inclies hy 8 inches squarel aud 4-2 inches deep, will contain onc gnllon.
A box 7 inches by 8 inches squnre, nnd -1-8 inches deep, will contain n half gullon.
A box 4 incbes by 4 inches square, and 1-2 inches deep, will contain one quart.
large Stories.
Wehave nil heard of-lish siories,' nnd it i.s generally understood they are prelty hard to swallow. Thero are some, however, who hnvo acquired snch a fneility in inanufacturing them, Ihnt they deem it dci-ognto.-y iflhey nllow them¬ selves to be aurpasscd in telling tl: :n.
Ofthis cla.ss wc-e Jcin. B. nnd Joe. P., two old cronies, who for a while flourished in a neigliboring village.
They woro seated inllie Tillage store one evening, when Jem, designing to call thc nt¬ tention of the'coinpnny,commenced ns follows;
'I say, boys, did I ever tcil you what a time I had shooting pigeons over nt our hou.se one night last winter.'
'No, no,' snid a chorus of voices, 'come, lell it.'
'You see,' said tl.o old mnn, 'my old woman and I were seated nround the fire-place one night in the kitchen, when we henrd a flutter¬ ing up nbove.'
'Wliat's Hint ?' nsked Jcrniimi.
'I do not know-,' anid I; 'it sounds liko pig¬ eons.'
'So, I got iny old musket nnd chnrgcd it up pretty well, nnd pointing it np the chimney, I found there wns n screech nnd n crashing noise, and a dozen aa plump pigeons as you could wish to sec fell npnn thc hearlh. Tw-o fell into thcpot that was 1,'.lliing over the fii-c, and wo had thetn for bi-i:.i!;fast next inorning. We didn't have to buy any butelicr'a meat fora w-cck afterwards.'
'Ahem I' eommented Joe, 'that's pretty fair luck, but it isn't a circumstance to what hap¬ pened to me once. I'll IcU it, if you hain't got no objections.'
'Go ahead, Joe, we are ail anxious to licar you.'
'Well, I'd been out hunting ono afternoou— had dreadful luck—fired nway all ray shot, and hadn't bronght down anytbing yet. I began to be discouraged, and was thinking of going home, when all at onee a lot of robins, (there w-cre fifty of'em, and nil in n row,) flew by.
'Here wna a capital chance to shoot; bnt lhe worst of it wns, I hnd no shot. So I did the best I cotdd. I put in the rnmrod and charg¬ ed it up pretty woll. I took aim and fired, nnd. w-onderful to tell, I took the first robin thiOugh thc eye, and it passed tbrough tiie whole row¬ of'em, so they fell to the pround, ull strung on tho ramrod na neal as eonld bc. I shouldered 'em nnd cnrried 'em home.'
'How many rcbins did you say there were?' asked a bystander. 'Just fifty.'
'.Vnd they were all strung on tiic ramrod?' 'Sartin. H.ave you anything to say agin it?' '0, no, ccrlainly not; only it must have beeu a plaguy long ramrod, that's all.'— Yankee Blade.
Official.
In the following illusli-.-itiou ofn printing of¬ fice dialogue there is decidedly more truth than poetry:
Foreman—Y'ou fellow wilhlhe red hair, what arc you at now ?
Compositor—I'm setting '.\ House on Firo I' almost done.
Foreman—What's Smith abon'?
Compositor—He's engaged ou a 'Horrible Murder!'
Foreman—Finish il asquick as possible and help Marsh through wilh hi.s lolegr.aph. Bob, whnl nre you Irving to get up?
Bob—'A Paiiie in the Money Market.'
Forenifin—.Mm, what .ire yon dtslriliutiiig?
Jim—'Prizes in Perhain's (lift Enlerprize.'
Foreman—Stop that, and take hold of tbis 'Runaway Horse.' Slocum what in the thun¬ der have you been about the la.st half hour?
Slocum—Justifying the 'Compromise Mea¬ sures' which mv cub set.
Foromau—You chap on tho stool, wliat are you on ?
Compositor—On the 'Table' you gave me.
Foreman—Lay it on the table for the pres¬ eut—have no room for it.
Compositor—How about these 'Municipal Candidates?'
Foreman—Run 'era in. What did you say Slocum ?
Slocum—Shall I 'lead' these 'Men of Boslon ?'
Foreman—No. They're 'solid' of course.
Compositor—Do yon want a fuU-fnco head to 'Jenny Lind's Family ?'
Foreman-—No;such things go in 'email caps.' John, have you got np that 'Capital Joke?'
John—No, sir; I'm 'out of sorts.'
Foreman—Well, throw in this '.Million of California Gold,' and when yon get through with it, I'll give you aome more. Wilson, hnve you finished liio 'Coalition?'
Wilson—Yes, air; tho 'Conlition' is 'nil up.'
Edilor—AVhnt do you wnnt now?
Devil—More copy, sir.
Editor—Have you completed that 'Eloquent Thankagiving Discourse ?
Devil—Yes, sir; and I've got up a 'Warm Winter!'
Scissors—Here, take Ihis 'Official' and be oil'.
Exit Devil with a 'fat take.'
The Young ladys' Shorter Catechism.
What is the whole duty of woman ? To dress—lo sing—lo dance—to play on tiie piano forte—to gabble French or German—and to preside graeefully at the tea-tal-le 1 What is a man ? A thing to waltz wilh—to flirt with —to take one to tho theatre—to laugh nt—to be married to—to pay one's bills—and to keep one comfortably 1 Whnt is life ? A polkn—a sholtische—a dance that one must whirl through ns/iis< na possible! Whnt is de.ith? Il's—aomelhing thnt its unfashionable to talk of—lo whisper of—to think of—so tbo less that's said about it the better I
I®"'Boy,' aaid a traveller to a liltle fellow clothed in panta and round-.about, but minus another very important article of wearing ap¬ parel—'boy, whcre's your sliirt ?'
'Mammy's washing it?'
'Have you no oilier ?'
'No other!' exclaimed the urchin with indig¬ nant scorn; 'wonid you want a body to hnve n thouannd shirls ?'
A Strike.—'I ain't a going to bc cnilcd a printer's devil nny lunger—no more I ain't,' exclnimed our imp the olhcr day in n terribie pucker.
'Welt, whatshall wo call you?'
'Cnll me typographical spirit of evil, if you
nleii
-lint's all.'
An Aristocratic Darkey.
John B. Vaslion, a colored barber of Pitta- burg, died recently at the rnilroad atnlion in thnt city, whilst nboul to atari for Philadelphia to take hia seat in the convention of tlie sold¬ iers ofthe w-ar of 1812. The hislory of Vash- on is n somewhat singular ono. He wns a slight .nulatto, thc son of tt Virginin planter of tho san.e .inme. ITe died worth tw-o hundred thousand dollars. Om: of his sons ia n lawyer in that cily. The people of Pittsbnrg arc in¬ debted lo-l.im for thc first pnblic baths estab¬ lished in thnt eity. T'ntil thc Supreme Court ' of Pennsylvania decided that the pcople of color were not legal voters, Vashon enjoyed the right of sun"rnge. In 18.10, hc supported a gentleman for the .\sscinbly, npon the ground i lhat he was a "fashionable man,"' the meaning which was that ho bought his soap at Vashon's shop. On ono oecasion Vashon visited Ihe falls of Niagara, and thero met with n Pilts¬ burg acquaintance who introduced bin. to n friend fro.n Ilochestcr, N. Y. as "Col. Va.shon, of the Mexican army." Shortly afterwarda Vnshon met this gentleman in Rocliesler, who paid him grent attention, introduced him to tlio loading notablitica of that cily, nnd the | Pittsburg barber waa for some days the lion of the plaee. Vashon kept his own counsel, and on his return to Pittsburg, related the slory ¦ w-ilh great glee, always w-inding up will, the remark, "see whal a thing this prejudice of. color is I As long as they thought me a Mexi¬ cnn Colonel, I was good enough company for | anybody." Vashon considered himself as n sort of w-cstern rival of the late Tliomas S. An- ncrs, of Philadelphia, wlioiu bo describes na "a yory pompeou:: man."
; mm ,*
Young Iambs.
It is a very nice oiiernlion to raise a young lamb, nfter he refuses food, has a cold mouth, stiff neck, ,Vc.
We have been successful in hydropatliy on men nnd animals, contrnry to the old practice. Put the lamb into a buckel of wntcr as warm as you enn hold your hand in withoul scalding, let llim remain there about four minutes, or until all tremor subsides. Then t,ikc liim out, and wipe him over with a warm cloth or sponge, aud if not too fi.r gone, give hira .I'tnble-apoon- ful of warm drink. Strong green tea, or gin¬ ger lea, ndding sugnr and milk, or all mixed together, arc good. Uot woolen bl.mkets should be in readiness, and wound elose around iiim, covering all but his bead from the nir; let thero bo two acts nnd cliange oflen. As soon as ho is so revived, as to aet like enting give hira a ten-spoonful or two of iniik, warm from the ewe, or "new cow's milk." As soon as he is hungry, nud not beforo, feed hira lightly. Here tlio great secret lies, in feeding and rearing young Innibs. We are apt to over feed; this often kills tliem. Their stomachs are w-enk, tlicy cnn not di;restbut aliltleat a time. There¬ fore, feed but little, and often, at first.
I.et us reason. Of what use is an e.-^trnqnan- lily of food forced inlo the stomach, where there is not sullicient gnstric juice, the aolvent of food, or oilier chemicnl ngenta, which weak na¬ ture has not at command, lo disr.olve and di¬ gest tho food lodged Ihere at ouce?
Tl.e stomach acls liko tho mill, which is so overfed as to clog the wheels. The inolTensive lamb has no other remedy, but premature dealh. [ Counlry Gentleman.
McFudd's Irish Letter.
Dere Muther,
I'm wunderingwhat thc divil tapes the vesh- ii whicii Peggy's cumin' over in. Ef that blag- gnrd Kapliii has run afl" wid Iicr, be the powera o Moll Kelly I'll lake the kurl out uv his v.-ig, ef iver I lay me hands on bim.
Ef Pegg was In be takon frum me I shud die wid grcefc, nnd be berry'd in the arms uv widdy Casey. If thc ralcrode they're taukin' uv bildiu' across the say, belwene here nnd Galw.ay wur reJdy, Id aune sec what's keepin' mc d.arlin'.
But il's rae own fault, ef enylhing happens In hur, fur insted uv lettin' hur oura in mny bo sum ould tub, why dident I siml n ballune, aud bring hur over in stile. Bad cess to me fur a numbskull, I never think uv enylhing till it's 2 late.
Ye si-Cj mulhcr avick, I wouldent cnro so much about the delay, but llmt I hev, ji.st on Peggy's aecouut, waned lueself afi'frum Iuvin' the widdy; and havin' nobuddy tu bestow me affccshun on T hev tu keep it bottled up in me biizzuin, lill bur arrivnl, and I am ncrely kild wid the proshure.
Kapc yer self warm, muther dore, fur I sup¬ pose it's giltin' as cowld wid yu as wid us. I sind yu a cupjde uv blankils tu warm yer out¬ side, and n keg uv potheen tu kape yer insido frum frcesin". Make a warm plaee under thc bed fur the pigs and cliickens tu purtect them frum the cowld, the ernturs.
I am going to bc niarryd the moment Peggy arrives; Fallier Flulc sez he'll inarry me fur nauthin', bnrrin a pece uv the cake nothin' more nur less thin a round uv bafe. Won't yer nioutli walher whin ye heer it menshur.cd, fur il's n long time I suppose, sense yo tnshted the like.
In addishun lo what I told ye I h.adbnwt fur house kapin', I hev Inyd in a haf duzzen uv eryinl babys. What d'ye think uv lhat? .Shure it niusht be a convenaiit country will furnish ye wid a fanily rcddy mnde, and that, too be¬ fore yez marryd at ftll. Yours, siHMUs.
Horses.—I consider the growing of horses profitable. I think « colt cnn be raised, sim¬ ply considering the ainount he will eat after wenned till three years old, for but little more than a steer, and will sell for three limes as
much.
— ^» f—
1$^ Thc guilt tbat feels not its uwn shame, is wholly incurable. It was the redeeming fea¬ ture in thc fault of Adam, thnt, wilh thc com¬ misaion ofhis crime cainc the sense of hia na¬ kedness. _ ,
8®, "Goodness me!' cried a nice old lady, tbe other day, ''if Ibe world goes tn on end text vcar, wist «hnll I do for spnft'!''
Soliluqny of a Loafer.
Iict's see where am I? This is—coal I'm Inyin' on. How'd I git here ? (reflects.) Tes, I miud now. Was comiu' up stroet—met a wheel-barrow—wns drunk—comin' 'tother way —the wheel-barrow fell over me, or I fell over the wheelbarrow—and one of us, fell into the cellar,—don't mind which now—gueaa it muat n been me. I'm n nice man, yis I am—tighll tore! shot! drunk ! Well I cnn't help it—'taint my fault—wonder whose fnult 'tis. Is it Jones' fnult ? no. Ts it my wife's fault ? well it 'aint. Is it the wheel-barrow's fault? noo. It's whis¬ key's fault. Who is whiskey 7 Haa he a largo family ? got many relations ? All poor, I reck¬ on? I think I won't owe him any more. I'll cul his ncqunintnnce—I've had that notion for about ten years, and always hated to do it for fear of hurtin' his feelings—I'll do it now—I think. Liquor's injurin' me, it's a spoilin" ray tcmjier.
Sometimes I get mnd, when I'm ^nink; and abuse Belz and the brats-it usedlo be Lizzio and the children—that's aome time ago; I can just raind it;'when I come home in the cvenin'n she used to put her arms, round my neck nnd kiss mc, nnd call me her dear William. When I come home now she takes hcr pipe out of hcr inouth, nnd puts her hair out of hcr eves, and looks at me and say.s somelhin' like—Bill, vou drunken brute! shut the door after you, we're eold enough, haviu' no fire, 'thout lettin' tho SHOW blow in that wny. Yes. she's Betz and I'm Bill now; I 'aint a good Bill nulher; think I'm counterfHil—won't pass—a lavcrn without goin' in an' gittin a driuk. Don't know what Bank I'm on; laat Sunday I was on the river bank, drunk.
I stay out pretty lote now, somelimcs I'm out all night; fact is, I'm oul pretty much all over—out of friends, out of pocket, ont at tho elbows and knees, nnd always outrageously dir¬ ty, so Betz aays—but then olio's no judge, for she's never clean herself. I wonder why sho don't wear good clothes; maybe she hasn't got 'em; whoae fault's that? 'taint mine—it must be whiskey's.
Sometimes I'm in, however; I'm inloxicated now-, and in somebody's conl celler. There'a one good principle I've got—I won't go in debt, I never could do it. There, one of my coat- tails is gone—got tore off, I expect, wheu 1 fell down here—I'll hnve to get a new suit soon. A fellow told rae the other ciay I'd mako a good sigf. for a paper mill; if he wasn't so bij I'd n licked hira. I've bad this shirt for nino day.?, and I'-m afraid it won't come off w-ilhout teatin'. P.-orle ou;;lit lo rr-:pn:t i.io more'n they do, for I'm in ln,le-y orders. I 'aint n dan¬ dy, thouph my clolhes is pretty near all grease- ian slyle. . I guess I tore this winder shutter in my panls, the olher night, when I set down (:i the wax in Ben Stuggs' shop,—I'll have to gel it mended up, or I'll calch cold—I aint very stout as it is, lliough I'm full iu the face- as llic boys s.ay, I'm about as fat as a match and as healthy ns the small-pox. My beat liat is standid' guard for a winder pane that wenl out the other mornin' nt the invitation of a brick-bat. It's gittin' eold down here; wonder how I'll get oul; I aint able to ciimb. Ifl had a drink I could think hetlcr—let's see, I hain't got no three cenls—w-ish I was in a tavern, T could sponge one. When any body troats aud snys "como up fullers," I nllers think my nauio is "fellers,'' nnd I've got too good manners to lefusc. Well I must leave this or they'll arrest mo for an attempt at burglary—I nint come lo thnt yet. Anyhow, it «-as the whcel-barrow done tbc harm, rot me.—Alhghaiiinn.'\
Characteristics.
Somebody says there nre three kinda of men in this world—tho "will's," tho^"won"t3,''and the ''cnn'ts."
The first efl'ect everything, the next oppose everything, and the lost fnil iu everything.
"I will" builds our rniiroads and steamboats; '-I won't'' believe in experiments nnd nonsense; while "I cnn't" gro'.v3 weeds for wheat, nnd commonly ends his days in the slow digestion ofa conrt of bankruptcy.
I®" Snooks w-ondors where all liie pillow ca¬ ses go to. He says he never asked a girl what she was making, while engaged in white sew¬ ing, without being lold that it was a pillow case.
Thia ia nn evidence thnt girls know how lo nnswer a fool necording to his folly. Snooks ia tt good-for-nothing, impudent fellow, lo aak sueh impertinent questions, and tl.o girls wero right in making a shift, and not answering him correctly.
Dttf:A.MS.—An old lady, who wns apt lo bo troubled iu hcr dreams and rather supersti- tioua wilhal, informed the parson of the parish that on a certain night previous, she dreamed ahe snw her grandmother, who had been dead for ten years. The clergym.in asked her what she had been enting ? "01.! only half a rai.ice-pie." "Well," said hc, "if you had de¬ voured the other half, you might probably hnvo seen your grandfather, too."
JQf-The French papera sjwak cf iheir new dish, fried raltlesnakea, aa a novelty of their own invention. It is uot. In tho old Florida war, "our men" discovered thnt rattlesnakes wore good to eat; and uaed to cook them as a pleasing change after aalt horao and hard bis¬ cuit. We have been as.surcd by one who ser¬ ved in the war lhat thc fleah of the rattlesnaka ia delicious in ti.o extreme—surpassing even that of Iho frog, both in flavor and delicncy of texture.
Fii.i.ii, Affectiok.—An Irishman, swearing the peace agninst his three sons, thus conclu¬ ded:
'The only ono of my children who shows me any real filial affection, is my youngest son, Lorry, for be never sirikes me lehen Tm doumi'
I®- Thc Postmaster ot Weat Point, Schuyl¬ kill county, advcrtisea a listof one letter ro- maining in his office, and appends to it the very important notice, lhat 'Penons applji^if for letters in the above list, -will jUrut a»T tVM Ihoi' nre silver^ed !'

To submit an inquiry about or request a viewing of Archives or Special Collections materials complete the Archives and Special Collections Request Form here: https://libguides.juniata.edu/ASC

Contributing Institution

Juniata College

Sponsorship

This Digital Object is provided in a collection that is included in POWER Library: Pennsylvania Photos and Documents, which is funded by the Office of Commonwealth Libraries of Pennsylvania/Pennsylvania Department of Education.

Image was scanned by OCLC at the Preservation Service Center in Bethlehem, PA. Archival Image is an 8-bit grayscale tiff that was scanned from microfilm at 400 dpi. The original file size was 30218 kilobytes.

To submit an inquiry about or request a viewing of Archives or Special Collections materials complete the Archives and Special Collections Request Form here: https://libguides.juniata.edu/ASC

Contributing Institution

Juniata College

Sponsorship

This Digital Object is provided in a collection that is included in POWER Library: Pennsylvania Photos and Documents, which is funded by the Office of Commonwealth Libraries of Pennsylvania/Pennsylvania Department of Education.

Full Text

I SEE NO Stau above the horizon, pnoMtsiNO liuht to qoide us, uut tHk intellioent, patuiotic, united Whig Paktt op the Unite!) Statk.s."—[Webster.
VOL. 19.
HUNTINGDON, PA., WEDNESDAY, MARCH 29, 1854.
NO. 12.
TERMS :
The "IlrsTiNooos JounNAi." is publishedat tlio following rates ; ir paid in advance $It
moderately prominent, nnd suflieienlly woU- shapod, i.3 yot, as far as I know, anonymous, allliong'' i' ''0 perhnps ns eommon and as w-cll looking a feature ns is lo be seen on an Kng¬ lish face.
Altogether, they wore a pair of tail and come¬ ly maidens, nnd being constantly attired in gar¬ ments of the same color and fashion, looked at all limes so much alike, that no stranger ever dreamed of knowing tbem apart; and even their ac(|ua!ntaiices were rather nccustomed to think and speak oflhcm generally as 'the Evanses," than as the separate individuals Jane and Patty. Even thoso who did pretend to distinguish the one from the otber, were not exempt from mistakes,which the sisters—Patty especially, who delighted in the fun so often produced by tho unusual resemblance—w-erc npt to favor by changing placesin a walk, or slipping from one side to the other at a country tea-party, or playing a hundred little innocent tricks to occasion at oncc n grave blunder and a merry laugh.
Old Dinah Goodwin for instance—who be¬ ing rather purbliiul, was jealous of being sus¬ pected of seeing less clearly than her neighbors, and had delied even the Evanses to puzzle her discernment—.¦:ecking in vain on Patty's hand thc cut linger which she had dressed on .lane's, ascribed the incredible cure to the merits of hcr own incomparable salvctand coidd bc hard¬ ly undeceived, even by tbe pulling olT of .lane's glove and the exhibition of the lacerated digi¬ tal sewed round by her own band.-ige. Young Gcorgc Kaily, the greatest beau in tho p.arish, having betted at a Christmas party that he would dance wilh every prelly gii-1 in tho room, lost his wager (which Patty had overheard) by that sauc" damsel's slipping into hcr sister's place, and persuading her to join hcr ow-n un¬ conscious partner; so that George danced twice with Patty, and not at all with Jane.— A bantering piece of malice w-hich proved, ns tbc young gentleman (a rustic exquisite of the first watcr)was pleased to assort, that Miss Patty wns not displeased with her partner.— Ilow little docs a vain mnn know- of woiuan kind I If she bad liked him, she would not have played the trick for the mines of Galcon- da.
In short, from their school days, when Jane was chidden for Patty's bnd w-ork, and Patty slapped for .lane's bad spinning, down to this, tbeir prime of womanhood, there had been no end to the confusion produced by this remark¬ able instance of faniily likeness.
And yet Nature—who sets somo mark of in¬ dividuality upon eveu her meanest productions, making some unnoted dill'crpi.ce bci-.vcen the lambs dropped from onc cw,^. the robins bred in one nest, tho flowers growing on one stalk, and the leaves hanging from one tree—had not left these young maidens williout one great and pcnnane..t diatiuclion—a natural anil striking dissimilarity of temper. Equally industrious, afTeetionate, happy aud kind; each wns kind, happy, ailectionate, and industrious in n dilTerent way. Jane was "r.ive, Patty w-as gay. Ifyou beard a langh or a song, bo sure it was Patty; she who jumped tho .sliiu,- w-hen hcr sister opened tho gate, w-as Pally; she who chased the pigs from the garden ns merrily as if she w-as running a riiee, so that the pigs did not mind her, was Paity.
Ol. tl.e other hand, sho that so carefully was muking, wilh ils own rnvelcd threads; nn i.ivi- siblc darn in hcr mother's handkerchief, and hearing her litlle sister read tho while, sho tliat was so patiently feeding, ono by onc, two broods of young tur'.5cys; she that so pensively was watering her own bed of rare flowers—the pale hues of the Alpine pink, or the niabastcr Iilossoins oflhe white evening primrose, whose modest flowers, dying off into a blush resem¬ bled her own character—was Jane.
Some oflhc gossips of Abcrleigh used to as¬ sert that Jane's sighing over the flow-ers, as well as thc early steadiness of her character, arose f.-om an engagement to my lord's head gardener, an intelligent, sedate, and sober young Scotchman. Of this I know- nothing.— Cerlaiu it is, that the prettiest nnd iiew-est plants were to bu fouml iu Jane's liltic flow-cr border;* nnd if Jlr. Archibald Madano did sometimes camo to look after them, I do not see thnt it is any business of anybody's.
In thc meantime, a visitor of a different de¬ scription arrived nt the farm. A cousin of Mrs. Evans had been ns suceessful in trnde ns her husband had been in agriculture, and he had now senl his only son to become acquaint ed with his relations, and to sjioud some weeks in ftieir family.
Charles Foster was n fine young man, whose father was neither more nor less than n liuen- draperin a great town; butwhose manncs,edu¬ cation, mind and chnrocter, might have done honor to a far higher station. Ho was, in a word, one of nature's gc.itlcroa.i, and in nolh- did ho more thoroughly show-his own taste and good breeding, than by entering entirely into homely wnys and old-fashioned habits of his coiiiiti-y cousins. He was delighted with the simplicity, frugality and industry, which blen¬ ded well witl. the sterling goodness and genu¬ ine prudence of the great l-higlisl. farm-house. The women especially pleased l.im much.— They formed a strong contrast with anylhing ho hud met with before. No finery—no co¬ quetry—no French—no piano I It is impossi¬ ble to describe the sensation of relief and com¬ fort with which Charles Foster, sick of musical misscs,ascertained that the whole dwelling did not contain n single instrument, except thc bassoon on which Oeorge Evans was wont, every Sunday at church, to excriicintu tho ears of the whole congregation. lie liked both sis- tori). Jane's softness and co.isiderateness en¬ gaged his full estceni; but Patty's innocent playfulness suited best with his own high spir¬ its and animated conversation. lie had known then, apart, from thc first; and indeed denied that tho likeness was nt nil puzzling, or more than is usual between siaiers; und secretly
Don't Propose in the Dark.
IIY Mi'is Mrn'or.p.
The pretty farm-house sianding at tho cor¬ ner where Kibes lane crosses lhe brook, or tlie liroolv crosses Kibes lane, (for thc first phrase, although giving by far tho closest picture oflhc place, doe.i, it must be confessed, look rather Irish,) and where the afore:;aid brook winds nway by the side of another lane, until it spreads into river-like dignity, as it meanders through the sunny plain of llnrlly Comnion, ttnd linallydisappears amid tho grcei. recesses of Pcrgu Wood—that pretty, square fur.n-Iiouso, half hidden by the tnll elms in Iho flu-.vcr court before it, which with the spneious garden nnd orchard behind, nnd the cntcusive barns, yards, and out-buildings, so eoniplclly ocenpies one of the angles formed by the crossing of the lane and the stream—that pretty farm-house con¬ tains one of the lia]ipiest and most prosjierous families in Abcrleigh—the large and thriving I'amily of farmer Evans.
.Vhether from skill or good fortune—or, as is most probable, from a lueky inixture of hoth —everything goes right inhis groat fann. His crops aro the best in the parish; his hay is nev¬ er spoiled; his cattle never die; his servants never thieve; his children are never ill. He buys cheap, and sells dear; money gathers about him like a snow-ball; and yet, it spite of all this provoking nnd intolcrtvble prosperily, cvcrvbody loves farmer Evans. He is so hos¬ pitable, so good-natured, so generous, so home¬ ly ! There, aflcr all, lies the charm. Riches have not only not spoiled the man, but they have not altered him. Uc is just tho sarae in look, in w-ord, and wny, tl.at l.e was thirty years ago, when ho and his wifu with two sorry hor- .scs, one cow, and three pigs, began tho world at Dean Gate, n littlo bargain of tw-cnty acres, two .nilcs oil'. Ay, and his wife is the same woman !—the same frugal, tidy, industrious, goodnntured Mrs. Evans—so noted for nctivity of tongue and limb, her good looks, and her plain dressing; as frugal, as good-natured ns active, and as plain-dressing Mrs. Evans at for¬ ty-live, a.s she was at nineteen, and, iu a difl'er¬ cnt way, almost as good looking.
Their cbildreu—si.t 'boys,' ns farmer Evans pro.niseuously culls them, whose ages vary from eight and twenty, and three girls, tw-o "rowi. up, and one, the youngest of tlie family —are just what might be expccled from par¬ ents so simple nnd so good. Tho young man, intelligent and well-conducted; tho boys, docile nnd promising; n.id tl.e little girl, ns pretty a curly-bead, rosy-cheeked poppet, as ever was the pot and plaything of n large family. It is, however, with tho eldest danghlers thnt wo have to do.
Jane and Patty Evnns wore as much alike aa hath oflcn befallen nny tv.-o sisters not bom at one time; for inthe inaller of twiu chiidrcn, there has been u series of puzzles ever sinco the days ofthe Dromios. Nearly nt an ngo (I believe that at this moment bolh arc turned nineteen, and neither has reached twentj)—ex¬ actly of a stature, so high that Frederick the Great would have coveted Iheni for bis tall re¬ giment,—with liazle eyes, largo mouths, full lips, white teeth, brown hair, and that sort of nose whieh is neither Oi-ceian, or Komun, nor thought Patty much prettier thnn her sister, nquiliue, not/cpri/i nc: retrousse, that some ns sho was avowedly raenier. In doors and rersoni niofer to tUcin nU: but a ucsc wliich. o-it, 1"
¦nnnllv ut hcr side: and before
hc hnd been n month in the house nil tiic in- mntcs had givon Charles Foster as a lover of his young cousin; nnd she, when rallied on the subject, cried fy 1 and pish I and pshaw 1 and wondered how peoplo could talk such non¬ sense—and like to have such nonsense talk¬ ed to her, belter than anything in the world I
AlTairs wero in this stato when one night .lane appeared even graver and more thought¬ ful than usual, nnd fnr, far sadder. .She sigh¬ ed deeply; nnd Pnity—for the two sisters shar¬ ed the samo liltle room—inquired tenderly, what ailed her? Thc inquiry seemed lo make Jane worse. She burst into tears, wbilc PaHy hung over her nnd soothed hcr. At length ahe roused herself bya strong efforl; and, turning away from her alTectionate comforter, said in a low- lone—
'I liave a great vexation to-night Patty.— Charles Fosier has naked me to marry bim 1'
'Charles.Fosier' bush¬ els.)
A box 21 inches by 16 inches sqnnre and It inches deep, will contain half a barrel.
A box 20 inches by 15-8 inehes square, nnd 8 inches deep, will contain one bushel.
A box 12 inches by 11-2 inches square, and 8 inches deep, will contain halfa bushels.
A box 8 inches by 8-4 inches squnre, nnd 8 inches deep, will contain one peck.
A box 8 inclies hy 8 inches squarel aud 4-2 inches deep, will contain onc gnllon.
A box 7 inches by 8 inches squnre, nnd -1-8 inches deep, will contain n half gullon.
A box 4 incbes by 4 inches square, and 1-2 inches deep, will contain one quart.
large Stories.
Wehave nil heard of-lish siories,' nnd it i.s generally understood they are prelty hard to swallow. Thero are some, however, who hnvo acquired snch a fneility in inanufacturing them, Ihnt they deem it dci-ognto.-y iflhey nllow them¬ selves to be aurpasscd in telling tl: :n.
Ofthis cla.ss wc-e Jcin. B. nnd Joe. P., two old cronies, who for a while flourished in a neigliboring village.
They woro seated inllie Tillage store one evening, when Jem, designing to call thc nt¬ tention of the'coinpnny,commenced ns follows;
'I say, boys, did I ever tcil you what a time I had shooting pigeons over nt our hou.se one night last winter.'
'No, no,' snid a chorus of voices, 'come, lell it.'
'You see,' said tl.o old mnn, 'my old woman and I were seated nround the fire-place one night in the kitchen, when we henrd a flutter¬ ing up nbove.'
'Wliat's Hint ?' nsked Jcrniimi.
'I do not know-,' anid I; 'it sounds liko pig¬ eons.'
'So, I got iny old musket nnd chnrgcd it up pretty well, nnd pointing it np the chimney, I found there wns n screech nnd n crashing noise, and a dozen aa plump pigeons as you could wish to sec fell npnn thc hearlh. Tw-o fell into thcpot that was 1,'.lliing over the fii-c, and wo had thetn for bi-i:.i!;fast next inorning. We didn't have to buy any butelicr'a meat fora w-cck afterwards.'
'Ahem I' eommented Joe, 'that's pretty fair luck, but it isn't a circumstance to what hap¬ pened to me once. I'll IcU it, if you hain't got no objections.'
'Go ahead, Joe, we are ail anxious to licar you.'
'Well, I'd been out hunting ono afternoou— had dreadful luck—fired nway all ray shot, and hadn't bronght down anytbing yet. I began to be discouraged, and was thinking of going home, when all at onee a lot of robins, (there w-cre fifty of'em, and nil in n row,) flew by.
'Here wna a capital chance to shoot; bnt lhe worst of it wns, I hnd no shot. So I did the best I cotdd. I put in the rnmrod and charg¬ ed it up pretty woll. I took aim and fired, nnd. w-onderful to tell, I took the first robin thiOugh thc eye, and it passed tbrough tiie whole row¬ of'em, so they fell to the pround, ull strung on tho ramrod na neal as eonld bc. I shouldered 'em nnd cnrried 'em home.'
'How many rcbins did you say there were?' asked a bystander. 'Just fifty.'
'.Vnd they were all strung on tiic ramrod?' 'Sartin. H.ave you anything to say agin it?' '0, no, ccrlainly not; only it must have beeu a plaguy long ramrod, that's all.'— Yankee Blade.
Official.
In the following illusli-.-itiou ofn printing of¬ fice dialogue there is decidedly more truth than poetry:
Foreman—Y'ou fellow wilhlhe red hair, what arc you at now ?
Compositor—I'm setting '.\ House on Firo I' almost done.
Foreman—What's Smith abon'?
Compositor—He's engaged ou a 'Horrible Murder!'
Foreman—Finish il asquick as possible and help Marsh through wilh hi.s lolegr.aph. Bob, whnl nre you Irving to get up?
Bob—'A Paiiie in the Money Market.'
Forenifin—.Mm, what .ire yon dtslriliutiiig?
Jim—'Prizes in Perhain's (lift Enlerprize.'
Foreman—Stop that, and take hold of tbis 'Runaway Horse.' Slocum what in the thun¬ der have you been about the la.st half hour?
Slocum—Justifying the 'Compromise Mea¬ sures' which mv cub set.
Foromau—You chap on tho stool, wliat are you on ?
Compositor—On the 'Table' you gave me.
Foreman—Lay it on the table for the pres¬ eut—have no room for it.
Compositor—How about these 'Municipal Candidates?'
Foreman—Run 'era in. What did you say Slocum ?
Slocum—Shall I 'lead' these 'Men of Boslon ?'
Foreman—No. They're 'solid' of course.
Compositor—Do yon want a fuU-fnco head to 'Jenny Lind's Family ?'
Foreman-—No;such things go in 'email caps.' John, have you got np that 'Capital Joke?'
John—No, sir; I'm 'out of sorts.'
Foreman—Well, throw in this '.Million of California Gold,' and when yon get through with it, I'll give you aome more. Wilson, hnve you finished liio 'Coalition?'
Wilson—Yes, air; tho 'Conlition' is 'nil up.'
Edilor—AVhnt do you wnnt now?
Devil—More copy, sir.
Editor—Have you completed that 'Eloquent Thankagiving Discourse ?
Devil—Yes, sir; and I've got up a 'Warm Winter!'
Scissors—Here, take Ihis 'Official' and be oil'.
Exit Devil with a 'fat take.'
The Young ladys' Shorter Catechism.
What is the whole duty of woman ? To dress—lo sing—lo dance—to play on tiie piano forte—to gabble French or German—and to preside graeefully at the tea-tal-le 1 What is a man ? A thing to waltz wilh—to flirt with —to take one to tho theatre—to laugh nt—to be married to—to pay one's bills—and to keep one comfortably 1 Whnt is life ? A polkn—a sholtische—a dance that one must whirl through ns/iis< na possible! Whnt is de.ith? Il's—aomelhing thnt its unfashionable to talk of—lo whisper of—to think of—so tbo less that's said about it the better I
I®"'Boy,' aaid a traveller to a liltle fellow clothed in panta and round-.about, but minus another very important article of wearing ap¬ parel—'boy, whcre's your sliirt ?'
'Mammy's washing it?'
'Have you no oilier ?'
'No other!' exclaimed the urchin with indig¬ nant scorn; 'wonid you want a body to hnve n thouannd shirls ?'
A Strike.—'I ain't a going to bc cnilcd a printer's devil nny lunger—no more I ain't,' exclnimed our imp the olhcr day in n terribie pucker.
'Welt, whatshall wo call you?'
'Cnll me typographical spirit of evil, if you
nleii
-lint's all.'
An Aristocratic Darkey.
John B. Vaslion, a colored barber of Pitta- burg, died recently at the rnilroad atnlion in thnt city, whilst nboul to atari for Philadelphia to take hia seat in the convention of tlie sold¬ iers ofthe w-ar of 1812. The hislory of Vash- on is n somewhat singular ono. He wns a slight .nulatto, thc son of tt Virginin planter of tho san.e .inme. ITe died worth tw-o hundred thousand dollars. Om: of his sons ia n lawyer in that cily. The people of Pittsbnrg arc in¬ debted lo-l.im for thc first pnblic baths estab¬ lished in thnt eity. T'ntil thc Supreme Court ' of Pennsylvania decided that the pcople of color were not legal voters, Vashon enjoyed the right of sun"rnge. In 18.10, hc supported a gentleman for the .\sscinbly, npon the ground i lhat he was a "fashionable man,"' the meaning which was that ho bought his soap at Vashon's shop. On ono oecasion Vashon visited Ihe falls of Niagara, and thero met with n Pilts¬ burg acquaintance who introduced bin. to n friend fro.n Ilochestcr, N. Y. as "Col. Va.shon, of the Mexican army." Shortly afterwarda Vnshon met this gentleman in Rocliesler, who paid him grent attention, introduced him to tlio loading notablitica of that cily, nnd the | Pittsburg barber waa for some days the lion of the plaee. Vashon kept his own counsel, and on his return to Pittsburg, related the slory ¦ w-ilh great glee, always w-inding up will, the remark, "see whal a thing this prejudice of. color is I As long as they thought me a Mexi¬ cnn Colonel, I was good enough company for | anybody." Vashon considered himself as n sort of w-cstern rival of the late Tliomas S. An- ncrs, of Philadelphia, wlioiu bo describes na "a yory pompeou:: man."
; mm ,*
Young Iambs.
It is a very nice oiiernlion to raise a young lamb, nfter he refuses food, has a cold mouth, stiff neck, ,Vc.
We have been successful in hydropatliy on men nnd animals, contrnry to the old practice. Put the lamb into a buckel of wntcr as warm as you enn hold your hand in withoul scalding, let llim remain there about four minutes, or until all tremor subsides. Then t,ikc liim out, and wipe him over with a warm cloth or sponge, aud if not too fi.r gone, give hira .I'tnble-apoon- ful of warm drink. Strong green tea, or gin¬ ger lea, ndding sugnr and milk, or all mixed together, arc good. Uot woolen bl.mkets should be in readiness, and wound elose around iiim, covering all but his bead from the nir; let thero bo two acts nnd cliange oflen. As soon as ho is so revived, as to aet like enting give hira a ten-spoonful or two of iniik, warm from the ewe, or "new cow's milk." As soon as he is hungry, nud not beforo, feed hira lightly. Here tlio great secret lies, in feeding and rearing young Innibs. We are apt to over feed; this often kills tliem. Their stomachs are w-enk, tlicy cnn not di;restbut aliltleat a time. There¬ fore, feed but little, and often, at first.
I.et us reason. Of what use is an e.-^trnqnan- lily of food forced inlo the stomach, where there is not sullicient gnstric juice, the aolvent of food, or oilier chemicnl ngenta, which weak na¬ ture has not at command, lo disr.olve and di¬ gest tho food lodged Ihere at ouce?
Tl.e stomach acls liko tho mill, which is so overfed as to clog the wheels. The inolTensive lamb has no other remedy, but premature dealh. [ Counlry Gentleman.
McFudd's Irish Letter.
Dere Muther,
I'm wunderingwhat thc divil tapes the vesh- ii whicii Peggy's cumin' over in. Ef that blag- gnrd Kapliii has run afl" wid Iicr, be the powera o Moll Kelly I'll lake the kurl out uv his v.-ig, ef iver I lay me hands on bim.
Ef Pegg was In be takon frum me I shud die wid grcefc, nnd be berry'd in the arms uv widdy Casey. If thc ralcrode they're taukin' uv bildiu' across the say, belwene here nnd Galw.ay wur reJdy, Id aune sec what's keepin' mc d.arlin'.
But il's rae own fault, ef enylhing happens In hur, fur insted uv lettin' hur oura in mny bo sum ould tub, why dident I siml n ballune, aud bring hur over in stile. Bad cess to me fur a numbskull, I never think uv enylhing till it's 2 late.
Ye si-Cj mulhcr avick, I wouldent cnro so much about the delay, but llmt I hev, ji.st on Peggy's aecouut, waned lueself afi'frum Iuvin' the widdy; and havin' nobuddy tu bestow me affccshun on T hev tu keep it bottled up in me biizzuin, lill bur arrivnl, and I am ncrely kild wid the proshure.
Kapc yer self warm, muther dore, fur I sup¬ pose it's giltin' as cowld wid yu as wid us. I sind yu a cupjde uv blankils tu warm yer out¬ side, and n keg uv potheen tu kape yer insido frum frcesin". Make a warm plaee under thc bed fur the pigs and cliickens tu purtect them frum the cowld, the ernturs.
I am going to bc niarryd the moment Peggy arrives; Fallier Flulc sez he'll inarry me fur nauthin', bnrrin a pece uv the cake nothin' more nur less thin a round uv bafe. Won't yer nioutli walher whin ye heer it menshur.cd, fur il's n long time I suppose, sense yo tnshted the like.
In addishun lo what I told ye I h.adbnwt fur house kapin', I hev Inyd in a haf duzzen uv eryinl babys. What d'ye think uv lhat? .Shure it niusht be a convenaiit country will furnish ye wid a fanily rcddy mnde, and that, too be¬ fore yez marryd at ftll. Yours, siHMUs.
Horses.—I consider the growing of horses profitable. I think « colt cnn be raised, sim¬ ply considering the ainount he will eat after wenned till three years old, for but little more than a steer, and will sell for three limes as
much.
— ^» f—
1$^ Thc guilt tbat feels not its uwn shame, is wholly incurable. It was the redeeming fea¬ ture in thc fault of Adam, thnt, wilh thc com¬ misaion ofhis crime cainc the sense of hia na¬ kedness. _ ,
8®, "Goodness me!' cried a nice old lady, tbe other day, ''if Ibe world goes tn on end text vcar, wist «hnll I do for spnft'!''
Soliluqny of a Loafer.
Iict's see where am I? This is—coal I'm Inyin' on. How'd I git here ? (reflects.) Tes, I miud now. Was comiu' up stroet—met a wheel-barrow—wns drunk—comin' 'tother way —the wheel-barrow fell over me, or I fell over the wheelbarrow—and one of us, fell into the cellar,—don't mind which now—gueaa it muat n been me. I'm n nice man, yis I am—tighll tore! shot! drunk ! Well I cnn't help it—'taint my fault—wonder whose fnult 'tis. Is it Jones' fnult ? no. Ts it my wife's fault ? well it 'aint. Is it the wheel-barrow's fault? noo. It's whis¬ key's fault. Who is whiskey 7 Haa he a largo family ? got many relations ? All poor, I reck¬ on? I think I won't owe him any more. I'll cul his ncqunintnnce—I've had that notion for about ten years, and always hated to do it for fear of hurtin' his feelings—I'll do it now—I think. Liquor's injurin' me, it's a spoilin" ray tcmjier.
Sometimes I get mnd, when I'm ^nink; and abuse Belz and the brats-it usedlo be Lizzio and the children—that's aome time ago; I can just raind it;'when I come home in the cvenin'n she used to put her arms, round my neck nnd kiss mc, nnd call me her dear William. When I come home now she takes hcr pipe out of hcr inouth, nnd puts her hair out of hcr eves, and looks at me and say.s somelhin' like—Bill, vou drunken brute! shut the door after you, we're eold enough, haviu' no fire, 'thout lettin' tho SHOW blow in that wny. Yes. she's Betz and I'm Bill now; I 'aint a good Bill nulher; think I'm counterfHil—won't pass—a lavcrn without goin' in an' gittin a driuk. Don't know what Bank I'm on; laat Sunday I was on the river bank, drunk.
I stay out pretty lote now, somelimcs I'm out all night; fact is, I'm oul pretty much all over—out of friends, out of pocket, ont at tho elbows and knees, nnd always outrageously dir¬ ty, so Betz aays—but then olio's no judge, for she's never clean herself. I wonder why sho don't wear good clothes; maybe she hasn't got 'em; whoae fault's that? 'taint mine—it must be whiskey's.
Sometimes I'm in, however; I'm inloxicated now-, and in somebody's conl celler. There'a one good principle I've got—I won't go in debt, I never could do it. There, one of my coat- tails is gone—got tore off, I expect, wheu 1 fell down here—I'll hnve to get a new suit soon. A fellow told rae the other ciay I'd mako a good sigf. for a paper mill; if he wasn't so bij I'd n licked hira. I've bad this shirt for nino day.?, and I'-m afraid it won't come off w-ilhout teatin'. P.-orle ou;;lit lo rr-:pn:t i.io more'n they do, for I'm in ln,le-y orders. I 'aint n dan¬ dy, thouph my clolhes is pretty near all grease- ian slyle. . I guess I tore this winder shutter in my panls, the olher night, when I set down (:i the wax in Ben Stuggs' shop,—I'll have to gel it mended up, or I'll calch cold—I aint very stout as it is, lliough I'm full iu the face- as llic boys s.ay, I'm about as fat as a match and as healthy ns the small-pox. My beat liat is standid' guard for a winder pane that wenl out the other mornin' nt the invitation of a brick-bat. It's gittin' eold down here; wonder how I'll get oul; I aint able to ciimb. Ifl had a drink I could think hetlcr—let's see, I hain't got no three cenls—w-ish I was in a tavern, T could sponge one. When any body troats aud snys "como up fullers," I nllers think my nauio is "fellers,'' nnd I've got too good manners to lefusc. Well I must leave this or they'll arrest mo for an attempt at burglary—I nint come lo thnt yet. Anyhow, it «-as the whcel-barrow done tbc harm, rot me.—Alhghaiiinn.'\
Characteristics.
Somebody says there nre three kinda of men in this world—tho "will's," tho^"won"t3,''and the ''cnn'ts."
The first efl'ect everything, the next oppose everything, and the lost fnil iu everything.
"I will" builds our rniiroads and steamboats; '-I won't'' believe in experiments nnd nonsense; while "I cnn't" gro'.v3 weeds for wheat, nnd commonly ends his days in the slow digestion ofa conrt of bankruptcy.
I®" Snooks w-ondors where all liie pillow ca¬ ses go to. He says he never asked a girl what she was making, while engaged in white sew¬ ing, without being lold that it was a pillow case.
Thia ia nn evidence thnt girls know how lo nnswer a fool necording to his folly. Snooks ia tt good-for-nothing, impudent fellow, lo aak sueh impertinent questions, and tl.o girls wero right in making a shift, and not answering him correctly.
Dttf:A.MS.—An old lady, who wns apt lo bo troubled iu hcr dreams and rather supersti- tioua wilhal, informed the parson of the parish that on a certain night previous, she dreamed ahe snw her grandmother, who had been dead for ten years. The clergym.in asked her what she had been enting ? "01.! only half a rai.ice-pie." "Well," said hc, "if you had de¬ voured the other half, you might probably hnvo seen your grandfather, too."
JQf-The French papera sjwak cf iheir new dish, fried raltlesnakea, aa a novelty of their own invention. It is uot. In tho old Florida war, "our men" discovered thnt rattlesnakes wore good to eat; and uaed to cook them as a pleasing change after aalt horao and hard bis¬ cuit. We have been as.surcd by one who ser¬ ved in the war lhat thc fleah of the rattlesnaka ia delicious in ti.o extreme—surpassing even that of Iho frog, both in flavor and delicncy of texture.
Fii.i.ii, Affectiok.—An Irishman, swearing the peace agninst his three sons, thus conclu¬ ded:
'The only ono of my children who shows me any real filial affection, is my youngest son, Lorry, for be never sirikes me lehen Tm doumi'
I®- Thc Postmaster ot Weat Point, Schuyl¬ kill county, advcrtisea a listof one letter ro- maining in his office, and appends to it the very important notice, lhat 'Penons applji^if for letters in the above list, -will jUrut a»T tVM Ihoi' nre silver^ed !'